


Cohabitational Pull

by SewSewDef



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:46:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1455913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SewSewDef/pseuds/SewSewDef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beni-Shigure has a night out on the town, and Koujaku tries to keep up the appearance of a man not totally in love with Aoba Seragaki. He, predictably, doesn't do a great job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cohabitational Pull

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying out a different writing style...I kinda really like all these darn parentheses. Is it too annoying? I dunno let me know.
> 
> This may or may not become part of a longer series of vignettes(hence the vague title). For now, it's a one-shot, but who knows...!!?!?

Loud music, bright lights and the smell of fog machine and alcohol swirled around Club Jima's interior. The entirety of Beni-shigure were in attendance: some were reclining in their reserved booth, enjoying bottle service and a superior view of the dance floor, while the rest were dancing. Their fearless leader was among those dancing, and was currently obliging not one but two beautiful and extremely enthusiastic women, managing to dance with them both with a casual ease that only he could have mustered.

This, Koujaku mused while elegantly avoiding a mouthful of over-bleached, over-blow-dried hair (he'd have to book this young lady an appointment, ASAP), reminded him of the bad old days. Of course, back then he'd have invited these ladies back to his home, where he'd lavish them with his (second) best sake and delicate artisanal tsukemono in tiny lacquerware bowls, and listen to them pour their hearts out, before either wishing him a good night and leaving (rarely), or staying long enough to wish him good morning (usually). That certainly wouldn't be happening this evening, or, possibly, if he were to be honest with himself, ever again.

His evenings were different now, spent instead in the company of soft, lovely-feeling hair (he'd thrown out all of Aoba's corner store hair products upon moving him in, and was now overseeing his haircare with hawk-like vigilance) and a fridge full of cheap beer and chuhai so sweet Koujaku couldn't stand it (he'd given Aoba a cup of his very best Junmai Daiginjo sake once: Aoba swallowed it like it was nail polish remover and declared it “gross!” and it was the cutest and most expensive thing Koujaku had ever seen.)

He found he didn't miss this, these women with their perfume that did not smell like Aoba and their hair that was not blue and their shoes that looked like they hurt. Even so, he had to do this, had to keep up appearances for the sake of his teammates. Thus far, he'd kept his relationship a secret to Beni-shigure, and had planned to continue to do so. After all, he was their leader. He had to be the toughest, the smoothest, the coolest, for their sake. Many of these guys Koujaku had literally pulled from the scum and depravity of the North District, some of them actually mid-crime, and recruited for his team. For many of them, Beni-shigure provided an alternative to that life, a way to feel the thrill of battle and the satisfaction of status and being part of a group without resorting to joining the Yakuza or any other of the violent and destructive street gangs that were prevalent on Midorijima. He'd be damned if he was going to force his members to drift back into lives of petty crime because their team leader wasn't manly enough for them. It was for this reason and this reason only that he now had his arms full of two rather handsy women and was trying his darnedest not to run away and call Aoba to check in.

Aoba, of course, was totally fine and was spending his evening doing inventory at Heibon to rack up overtime pay (his instructions to Koujaku that morning were 'it's fine to go out tonight since I'm working late but don't make out with anyone and don't come home too drunk and if you guys stop for snacks afterward please bring me back some'.) He understood why Koujaku had to keep up appearances and was fine with playing along with it, and for that Koujaku as infinitely, infinitely grateful.

Eventually, Koujaku had to reclaim his limbs from these ladies for a much-needed smoke break. He managed to extricate himself while ushering them over to another teammate who had stepped onto the floor. He bowed deeply, politely pretending not to hear their offers of phone numbers, and made his way to the Beni-Shigure booth to retrieve his katana and cigarettes. As he swaggered over, he smiled broadly at the group gathered around. His team mates, however, did not seem to want to smile back. Most gave him a polite head nod, but their faces were blank. Some stared into their glasses, and a couple of the less-polite members gave quizzical, scrutinizing looks. It wasn't rude, not really, but it wasn't warm either. Koujaku kept his smile plastered on, but was worried. Had they found out? Had his performance on the dance floor been unconvincing? Had he left his coil at the table without realizing? He'd have to do some reconnaissance, but for now he really, really needed a smoke.

Cool, refreshing night air blasted him in the face and chest as he pushed open the heavy wooden club doors. He walked over to the next storefront over and leaned up against a vending machine, a safe enough distance away that his smoking would be hidden and so he could shut his personality off for a little while. He shot off a couple of texts (00:38 did I ever tell u I rly like that u always dress comfy? 00:39 im not drunk btw) before lighting a cigarette and taking a long, long drag.

He was halfway through his second cigarette when he heard the heavy doors open again, the muffled sub-base of club music growing louder for a second as two people walked outside, stopping just outside the club entrance amid a rustle of cigarette packs and a hiss of matches being lit. Koujaku could hear the familiar voices of two of his teammates and was secretly thankful he was concealed by the vending machine and could relax for a few more minutes.

“I thought the boss was going out here for a smoke, wasn't he Shou-San?” one of the members, a young kid named Hachirou, asked his compatriot, an older man who'd been one of Beni-shigure's first recruits.

“Hmm. You're right. Ah well, maybe he had other business. If you ask me the boss seemed a little strange tonight,” Shou-san said in between drags. “Those girls...it was a little too much.”

“Ah, I agree!” Hachirou said, sounding relieved not to be the only one. “I hope it doesn't upset Aoba-san. Do you think everything is ok?”

Koujaku's coil lit up and he glanced down, flicking away the long cigarette ash that threatened to fall on his kimono. It was a text (00:46 thank you??? I think???). He sent another (00:46 I love you Aoba I wish I was at home w u right now) to which he received an almost immediate reply (00:47 hippo)

“It's not our place to discuss the boss' personal life,” Shou continued, jarring Koujaku's attention away from his coil screen, “but I've never seen him happier than he's been in the past few months. He seems calmer, more focused. Like his has a new purpose. I've always respected him more than any other person I've met, but if he messes this up...”

“I hope it doesn't happen. I hope the boss and Aoba-san stay happy together.”

Shou let out a low chuckle as he extinguished his cigarette butt on the pavement. “Heh, me too kid. Let's go back inside. We'll try to keep the ladies away from him for the rest of the night, keep him at the booth, ok?”

Another brief upsurge of baseline as the doors opened and closed, and Koujaku was once again alone in the night. He put out his cigarette (unfinished), leaned against the vending machine, and stared out at the bright starless urban night. After a moment, he smiled. Not a smooth plastic smile but a real, true smile, immeasurably grateful for the second time that day.

When Koujaku returned inside he bought a round of expensive shots for the whole team, thanked them for their good work, and spent the rest of the night at the booth, chatting with his teammates and politely declining all invitations to dance. The next time he got a text from Aoba (01:26 Just finished inventory...I am so tired! I'll see you at home, hippo) he didn't even try to hide his smile, or his coil screen as he typed a reply (01:27 I'll be home soon, baka. Luv u).

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I feel like Kouj is really bad at texting? Like, he tries to keep up, but doesn't understand the nuances of texting abbreviations without sounding completely embarrassing.
> 
> 2\. Definitions!   
> -Tsukemono: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsukemono).  
> -Chuhai: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ch%C5%ABhai).  
> -Junmai Daiginjo: a wicked expensive sake. Goes up to like USD$500 per bottle sometimes. Lol, Aoba.


End file.
